I got some pussy last night

by Twenty Major on August 31st, 2006

I was out walking with Bastardface, my trusty hound, late last night. We were trundling along the canal when his ears pricked up. There was a high pitched squeak from a plastic bag on the bank.

Bastardface pulled me over to investigate. He sniffed at the bag, gave it a few little shoves with his enormous snout and looked up at me. The bag squeaked again.

I picked it up and looked in.

“Mew!”, went a tiny little kitten that couldn’t have been more than 6 weeks old. It was filthy dirty and it looked starving. Being a person of good conscience I couldn’t just leave him like that so I put some stones in the bag and threw it in the canal.

I’m joking. I took him home. Well, I say him because he looks like a him but I haven’t had a look to see if he’s got a mickey or a flange yet. However, I have called him Throatripper (I will add ‘ette’ on the end if it turns out to be a girl cat).

I gave him a good wash under the sink with some washing up liquid and swarfiga because he had some kind of oily stuff on his coat. I dried him off and put him on the ground. This was the acid test. He would either be accepted by Bastardface, the genuine king of the house, or he would be a very quick snack.

Bastardface looked at him. Throatripper looked at Bastardface. It would be the equivalent of a dwarf looking up at Godzilla.

“Woof!”, said Bastardface.

“Mew!”, said Throatripper before he ran up the dog’s leg, settled himself on his back and rode him around like a pony.

I have a feeling these two might make a lethal and devious partnership in the back garden.

Zzzzz, you bastards

by Twenty Major on August 30th, 2006

You know who annoy me? Those people who can just fall asleep anywhere, at any time, no matter how uncomfortable the situation or circumstances or the chair.

Like if you’re in a hospital waiting room and there’s always one bloke on one of those old school chairs and he’s fast asleep but always manages to wake up when the incomprehensible intercom calls his name.

Or those people who get on a plane, set their chair back and snooze merrily the whole way. I hate those bastards. I’m sitting there with white knuckles, muttering incantations to ensure the plane doesn’t fall out of the sky, wondering why I can’t sleep despite the 6 gin and tonics I had before take off and this cunt is fast asleep as if he’s in the most comfortable bed of all time. It’s maddening. I can’t even fall asleep during a Tom Hanks film!

Unless I’m slightly jarred it always takes me some time to fall asleep at night. I’ll toss and turn, and fluff up my pillow and shovel the duvet around and turn on my light again so I can read more to make my eyes tired but I know people who can go asleep as they turn a page in the book they’re reading.

That’s why I’m nearly always jarred. Some people say getting up early and having a full, interesting day which makes you tired means you can sleep far easier when you go to bed but I really wouldn’t know anything about that.

They’re *all* cunts

by Twenty Major on August 29th, 2006

Dirty Dave has a new ladyfriend. She came into Ron’s with him last night. Her name is Olga. She looks like a shoe. She is the person I have least in common with in the whole wide world and I include my evil twin brother who likes the exact opposite of me in that.

“Oh, I love Elvis”, she said out of the blue as if it had been part of the conversation.

“Elvis? I hate that cunt”, I said.

“How can you hate Elvis?”, she gasped.

“I just can.”

“That’s not a good enough reason!”

“My reasons are my own.”

She then expressed deep admiration for Robbie Williams, Dolly Parton, Bono and Phil fucking Collins, expressing a particular devotion to the drums in ‘In the air tonight’.

“Robbie Williams. Cunt”, said Jimmy.

“Dolly Parton. Big tits”, said Stinking Pete.

“Bono, is a da focking most big cunt in a da world”, said Lucky Luciano.

“Phil Collins. Bald, sub-cabaret, Motown song destroying, shit-eating, making us watch him two times at Live Aid cunt. And the drums in ‘In the air tonight’ are for cunts, loved by cunts, and air drummed by cunts the world over”.

“Well, who do you like then?” she asked.

“Erm”, I said.

“Er”, said Stinking Pete

“Uhm”, said Jimmy the Bollix.

“A aaah”, said Lucky Luciano.

I hate when people ask me difficult questions.

Jesus Christ monkey balls!

by Twenty Major on August 28th, 2006

I’ve never YouTubed before but this episode of South Park is just classic.

Apostrophe’s

by Twenty Major on August 28th, 2006

Story found on TCAL about the Apostrophe Protection Society giving out about a road sign in Portlaoise.

These grammar pedant’s are a real pain the arse. After that eat’s, shoot’s and leave’s book its something lot’s of people pick up on. A waste of time if you ask me. Their just showing off.

Message to the Apostrophe Protection Society: Your cunt’s and you should of left well enough alone because now you’re name is on my list to add to the many other’s.

Meat

by Twenty Major on August 25th, 2006

Isn’t meat great?

I feel sorry for people who are struck down by that terrible disease vegetarianism. Last night I ate most of a cow, medium rare. There was so much blood on the plate I drank the blood and now I have too much blood in my own bloodstream.

It’s like I have super blood.

Beef, pork, goat, fowl, kangaroo, ostrich, venison, Albanians. All deliciously meaty and good for you too!

And before the first smart arse pops up and says “Oooh, I bet you like a nice, big sausage, Twenty!” I’ll just have to admit I do like a nice, big sausage. German ones are very good. And before the first smart arse pops up and says “Is his name Jurgen?” I’ll have to admit that I’m really just talking about sausages with no double entendres whatsoever.

I have to keep it fresh somehow.

Pool

by Twenty Major on August 24th, 2006

People who play pool in a gay way are cunts.

Most of us hit the ball by putting our thumb and index finger together to make a good rest for the cue. Some people though make a circle with their index finger and thumb and that’s completely crap. I hate that. Stop being a complete Benny and set up your cue properly. You look like a total quimbashing gleethound.

The best kind of people to play pool against are the ones that think they’re always going to win but they forget about your ability to fluke in lots of shots and your ability to put them off by saying stuff when they’re about to take their shot. Such as “Nice clitoris” or “How’s your gee?”

This may not work against your more penisy friends.

Pool is good though. Especially when combined with booze. Pool and booze is a great combination like fish and chips, Tom and Jerry and Jews and Nazis.

Play more pool everyone. I’m really shit at it but the booze makes it all ok.

Due to hangover…

by Twenty Major on August 23rd, 2006

…today’s post has been cancelled.

Please insert your own post here.

The management.

Update: Hangover has receded due to consumption of sausage sandwich and beer. Still not enough for me to relate a mildly amusing anecdote though.

Sharp things hurt

by Twenty Major on August 22nd, 2006

I have a very, very sharp kitchen knife which cost me over €100. It can slice through steel and titanium without any effort at all. It’s fantastic for filleting things such as chickens or itinerants.

It has also managed to slice open my hand at least three times. Once cutting some duck I opened up the back of my hand, another time cutting something else I filleted my left thumb and cut about half an inch into the nail and today I sliced open my index finger on my left hand. I’m beginning to think I need to be more careful, or perhaps sober, when I use it.

It bled like a stuck pig though. I’d say, and this is a conservative estimate, that I lost at least 6 litres of blood from today’s wound. Lucky for me I’d bought a new plasma TV the other week so I was able to top up quite easily.

The worst slicing I ever did was over in Jimmy the Bollix’s house one evening. His dad was a butcher and he had a proper meat slicer in his kitchen. It’s the only thing his dad left to him when he died which is one of the reasons why Jimmy hates his brother Johnny the Bollix who got a house, a collection of LPs, three sides of beef and a tidy sum of cash.

I was slicing a side of ham to make a ham, cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, cheese and onions crisps, pickle, beetroot, mustard, cucumber, bovril, foie gras and bacon sandwich having had a large number of beers, three gin and tonics, an uncountable number of rum and cokes, 2 Jamesons, three shots of Absolut blackcurrant, a 1994 Faustino Rioja and 4 2 litre bottles of cider when I lost concentration and sliced the top of my right thumb clean off.

I looked at my thumb. I looked down at the ham which had my thumb on it. I looked back at my thumb and the top of the bone staring back at me.

“Hey Jimmy”, I said. “I think I’ve cut the top of my thumb off”.

“Yes. I think you have”, he said.

At this point it was beginning to bleed quite a lot. I don’t know what it was about the blood but it made me hysterical, with laughter. I was guffawing and chortling like a fool whilst spurting blood all over the kitchen floor.

“My thumb…pfffff…hahaha…is on the ham. hahahaha”.

Jimmy wasn’t quite sure why this was so amusing and he gave me a wad of tissue to wrap around it. We picked up the bit of thumb and went down to the emergency room where I told a clearly bemused receptionist that I had, hilariously, cut the top of my thumb off and I probably needed a doctor.

After waiting ages the doctor took a look and said it would just have to grow back on its own because the bit of thumb had gone off or something. They wrapped a big gauze bandage around it and told me to come back in a couple of days. I went home, still chuckling, and drifted off to sleep in great humour.

A couple of days later I went back to get the dressing changed but after a couple of days of solid bleeding it had all got stuck and the gauze was under bits of regenerating skin. The nurse bathed it in hot water and tried to gently pull it off but it was really stuck.

“There’s only one thing to do”, she said.

“What’s that?”

“This!”, she replied as she gave it a massive tug which hurt more than cutting it off in the first place.

“Are you going to pass out?”, she asked.

“No”, I said before I fell off the chair unconscious. Smelling salts really smell.

So, the lesson here is don’t cut the top of your thumb off with a meat slicer. It’s really funny until you have to get your bandage changed.

Don’t put a battery down there

by Twenty Major on August 21st, 2006

I have just come back from hospital having picked up Stinking Pete who, in a drunken state in some bar last night, took on the bet that he couldn’t put an AA battery down his Jap’s eye.

If he had the liquid capacity the doctor tells me he could water entire lawns in one go. The €2.56 he won better be worth it. Apparently they had to dig around in there for ages to hook it out.

There was Dave’s button fly incident the other day and now this. I am concerned.

These things happen in threes, you know…